"A nice young fellow," he said.
"Very," said the earl. "A good business man, I have no doubt."
"Immensely rich," said the captain—"immensely. I wonder if the countess would oblige me by sending him a card for her next ball? I should take it as a personal favor."
The earl stroked his mustache.
"I am sure the countess would only be too delighted," he said. "But are you sure that Mr. Smythe would care to come?"
"I am certain that he would," said the captain. "Indeed, he was speaking of it only this morning. Poor fellow, he has become infatuated with the beauty of Lady Boisdale!"
The earl was almost guilty of a start.
"Indeed!" he said. "I am sure we are very much flattered by Mr. Smythe's preference. It is a pity we did not know him. Unfortunately there is no chance of his wishes being fulfilled. I have this morning promised the hand of Ethel to Mr. Fairfax."
"To Mr. Fairfax!" echoed the captain, with as much polite astonishment and disgust in his voice as if the earl had said "His Satanic Majesty." "To Mr. Fairfax!"
"Yes," said the earl. "Mr. Fairfax called here this morning, just before you came, and pressed his suit so earnestly that I yielded and gave my consent—a very reluctant consent, I must confess."